Kurokawa hurried to work from early in the morning.
Perhaps it was because he was getting older, but he woke up early these days.
In the past, he would have lain in bed until the sun was high, but now there was somewhere he had to go.
He had to go to work.
It was hard, filthy work.
He spent his days rummaging through garbage and moving between piles of waste.
He enjoyed it.
It gave him a sense of fulfillment.
A glass of beer with his coworkers after work.
The refreshing feeling of the foam sliding down his throat was a kind of satisfaction he had never known when he lived by the sword.
It was almost laughable, working shoulder to shoulder with the other yakuza bosses who had once bared their teeth at one another and glared as if they wanted to kill.
Instead of the tension of never knowing when a blade might be driven into his flesh,
working together while getting covered in garbage was far more relaxing.
His body was exhausted, but he suffered far less stress.
It was dirty work, but his heart was growing cleaner.
.
.
The waste disposal business grew rapidly.
Once they lowered their rates, orders came pouring in.
It seemed that their strategy of putting the female employees front and center had worked.
The profits were better than expected, too.
Even after paying the salaries, there was money left over.
This month, he planned to pay tribute to Alex.
Paying tribute to one’s superior was only natural.
Whenever Kurokawa brought up the subject of tribute,
Alex refused.
“Old man, use that money to buy some chondroitin for your joints. Or go buy yourself some eel.”
“If you’ve got too much money, take everyone out for a meal. Or give them bonuses.”
“If you’re short on money, call me. I may not be good at taking, but I’m very good at giving.”
But for Kurokawa, tribute was not about money.
Tribute was proof that they were connected to one another.
Confirmation that they were linked above and below.
After arriving at the office, Kurokawa began his day with a can of warm green tea he had bought at a convenience store.
Its bitter taste rolled across his tongue and slipped down his throat.
It was the perfect flavor with which to start the morning.
He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it.
The smoke he drew deeply into his lungs returned as a cloud.
It was a routine that had remained unchanged from his days as a yakuza until now.
That was when the door opened and police officers entered.
Kurokawa flinched for an instant, but it was fine.
He had done nothing wrong.
He had not even thrown a single cigarette butt onto the street.
There was no reason for this to become a problem.
Kurokawa, still at ease, was about to ask the officers what they wanted.
But the police spoke first.
“You are under arrest as a suspect in the Tokyo Port explosion. You have the right to retain an attorney, and the right to refuse to make any statement that may incriminate you. If you believe your arrest is unjust…”
He was stunned.
Under arrest?
But he quickly regained his composure.
He was momentarily startled when the officers approached with handcuffs, but he did not resist.
He simply thought that, eventually, the time had come.
“Wait a minute, will you? Let me finish my cigarette before we go. What’s the hurry?”
“What, the cigarette?”
The officer snatched the cigarette Kurokawa was smoking, threw it onto the floor, and crushed it beneath his boot.
They roughly subdued Kurokawa and fastened the handcuffs around his wrists.
The unfinished can of green tea fell to the floor, spilling its contents.
.
.
.
Kurokawa was the one who had driven Alex to Tokyo Port.
The moment he saw the explosion at Tokyo Port,
the first face that came to mind was Alex’s.
Alex’s words about carrying out a terrorist attack.
The explosion at Tokyo Port.
There was no need to investigate any further.
It had to be Alex.
Empty-handed,
in that short amount of time,
he did not know what method Alex had used,
but there was no doubt that Alex was involved in the Tokyo Port explosion.
That was why,
when he was arrested, he had not put up much resistance.
If this was the punishment for that,
he was willing to accept it gladly.
A yakuza helping his boss was only natural.
Going to prison in his boss’s place was an infinite honor.
Fortunately, no one besides Kurokawa knew about this.
He had contacted Alex alone,
and had not told anyone.
Even when he entered Tokyo Port, Kurokawa had driven there by himself.
So all he had to do was hold out.
He only had to take the fall alone.
At worst, it was prison.
A place as comfortable as breathing.
Prison might be boring when he went there alone,
but going to prison in his boss’s place was not such a bad thing.
As Kurokawa was handcuffed and led toward the police car,
a strange sight unfolded before him.
The police were arresting not only Kurokawa,
but the entire factory staff.
They were making no exceptions.
They were rounding up everyone without fail.
From the technicians to the office workers, even the youngest employee who had only recently joined.
Those men hadn’t done anything wrong.
They were merely diligent yakuza.
“I’m the only one who’s guilty. Take me and leave them alone!” he wanted to shout.
But the atmosphere was not right.
The police were acting strangely.
They were agitated.
As if they were being pursued by something, as if they were trying to cover something up,
they were hurried and anxious.
Come to think of it, there had been something strange about Kurokawa’s arrest as well.
Normally, they would have brandished their evidence and acted arrogant.
But they had arrested him without rhyme or reason.
They had put the handcuffs on him first.
It was strange.
No—it was suspicious.
The instincts of a yakuza who had survived for many years kicked in.
‘Could these bastards be arresting people first even though they don’t know anything?’
Did they need a culprit?
And what if they had chosen the yakuza as that culprit?
Everything fell into place.
An explosion. No evidence.
Public anxiety. The yakuza.
That was it.
They were manufacturing a culprit.
Kurokawa knew this method well.
In the past, he himself had cast actors to be used as scapegoats.
Once the situation became clear, his thoughts changed.
If he was going to prison in place of his boss, he could go there with a smile.
But he did not want to be dragged along by a scenario these bastards had written.
That was not the honor of a yakuza.
It was simply allowing himself to be used like an idiot.
In that case, there was only one answer.
Deny everything.
All he had to do was say he knew nothing.
He had originally intended to confess, but now he would hold out.
They had probably planted evidence everywhere, but he would resist no matter what.
He had only brought waste to Tokyo Port.
He had seen the explosion on the news.
He only needed to repeat that.
He steeled his resolve.
He could not manage a smile, but his heart was smiling.
He had no intention of simply taking it lying down.
.
.
.
At the very moment Kurokawa was being taken away in the police car,
a breaking-news report was being broadcast.
“The series of explosions that recently occurred at major ports, including Tokyo Port, Yokohama, and Nagoya, have been confirmed to be the work of the yakuza.
“The Investigation Headquarters for the Japanese Port Explosion Incidents announced at an official briefing today that major organizations, including the Kurokawa-gumi, the Amagi Union, and the Shiranui-gumi, had joined forces to plan a large-scale smuggling operation. Some of the explosives among the smuggled goods malfunctioned and detonated inside the ports.
“The investigation headquarters stated that it had secured evidence of financial flows between the organizations, transactions involving shell corporations, and circumstances indicating that explosives had been stored by them.
“The government has classified this incident as a serious crime against national infrastructure and declared an all-out war on organized crime.
“The Cabinet is scheduled to hold an emergency countermeasures meeting and announce a comprehensive plan, including increased port security, expanded crackdowns on smuggling, and an expansion of the scope of the Organized Crime Special Measures Act.
“The Prime Minister plans to address the nation this afternoon, declaring that ‘Japan’s safety will never be shaken.’”
The head of the investigation headquarters pressed the remote and turned off the screen.
The conference room was silent.
Only three people sat inside.
The head of the investigation headquarters.
The prosecutor in charge.
The official from the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office.
They were the people who had decided that the yakuza were the culprits.
“What about the evidence?”
the head of the headquarters asked.
“We’ve arranged for materials connected to the explosive compounds to have been discovered at the waste disposal plant. The seizure report has already been prepared.”
“The actual items?”
“They’re being stored in the evidence warehouse. We’ve also documented how they were supposedly found.”
The head nodded.
“What about the flow of funds?”
“We set up a shell company. We tied it together so that the proceeds from the smuggling operation flowed through that company and into the organizations. The account records have been adjusted as well.”
“And their alibis?”
“We can use their movements near the ports on the day of the explosions. There’s even a record of a waste-disposal truck visiting Tokyo Port that day. It isn’t direct evidence, but it can be accepted as circumstantial evidence.”
“Are you sure?”
“This case has been classified as a matter of national security. It would be difficult for the courts to raise objections. They want to process it quickly.”
A brief silence followed.
Then the head asked again in a low, furtive voice,
“Is there any chance this could leak from inside?”
“None at all. We’ve separated the investigators. Only the three of us know the full picture.”
The head smiled in satisfaction.
The investigation headquarters, which had spent nearly a month floundering without a clue, had changed.
Once they found a direction, everything proceeded quickly and meticulously.
It was not that they lacked ability.
They simply had been unable to find a direction.
They created circumstances,
laid evidence over them,
then placed explanations and public opinion on top of that evidence.
“Any other problems?”
“The media have already begun naming the yakuza as the culprits and writing their articles. The trial will be over before anyone can refute it.”
“The defense counsel has been arranged as well. They’re in communication with our side.”
After confirming the progress, the head of the headquarters slowly leaned back in his chair.
He was satisfied.
“Good work.”
“You’ve worked hard too, sir.”
“When the case is wrapped up, let’s have a drink.”
“Yes, sir.”
The head added in a low voice,
“And this goes with us to the grave. Understood?”
The other two nodded simultaneously.
“Of course.”
By the agreement of those three men,
Kurokawa and the yakuza had already become the culprits.
******
“Boss. Have you seen the news?”
Scott had come to see me early in the morning.
Scott rarely came to Unity Village unless summoned.
“The news?”
I had just finished showering and was looking at Scott with a cup of coffee in one hand.
“They say Kurokawa’s been arrested.”
“Huh? Kurokawa? Why? Did they catch him dumping waste? Heh-heh, I knew he’d get caught eventually. I told that old fart countless times that dumping it so carelessly would get him caught…”
“No.”
“He didn’t?”
Scott’s expression was grave.
“They say he’s the culprit behind the Tokyo Port explosion.”
“What?”
I was startled by Scott’s words.
The culprit behind the Tokyo Port explosion?
That culprit was me.
I had designed and carried it out.
Why were they arresting Kurokawa?
I was the one who had caused the incident,
but Kurokawa was the one being taken away.
I had even deliberately adjusted the time of the explosion to eliminate any connection to Kurokawa.
Why had they suddenly arrested him?
I could not understand it.
“It isn’t only Kurokawa. The entire yakuza has been swept up.”
“The entire yakuza?”
Scott held out a report he had prepared.
The government’s announcement, a summary of the investigative briefing, even public opinion—it was all neatly organized.
I was confused at first,
but after reading it twice, I began to see the picture.
Since they could not identify the culprit, they had created one.
Then they had put forward the most convenient and plausible name.
The yakuza.
Smuggling, explosions, organized crime.
It fit perfectly.
If the yakuza were the culprits, no one would question it.
On top of that, the government could eliminate the yakuza, an eyesore to begin with.
I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair to organize my thoughts.
“Neat.”
They had used their heads well.
There was no one to save a powerless yakuza whose connections had been severed.
It could become a political achievement.
Public opinion had completely turned against them.
The witch hunt had already begun.
The defense attorneys were probably part of the same team, too.
This was no mistake.
They had calculated everything thoroughly before carrying it out.
They had probably arranged every last detail, including the evidence.
Would Kurokawa be able to endure it?
Even for Kurokawa, it would not be easy.
This involved explosions at Japanese ports.
Not one place, but three.
Pressure beyond imagination would be brought to bear.
Kurokawa would probably mention my name, wouldn’t he?
He would have no choice.
I understood.
Of course he would.
I was not offended.
I was the one who had created this situation.
It was only right that I should be punished.
If anything, I hoped he would give them my name quickly and be relieved of the burden.
I even wondered whether I should turn myself in for Kurokawa’s sake.
I hated the thought of that innocent old man suffering because of me.
As for me, I could eat well and live well even inside prison.
I had nothing to worry about.
But no matter how much I thought about it, I was not convinced that turning myself in was the best choice.
There had to be another way.
I did not want to walk straight into the trap they had laid.
Even if I was caught, I wanted to make them pay first.
Then a thought suddenly occurred to me.
What if
they announced that the yakuza were the culprits,
claimed they had arrested all the yakuza,
and the explosions continued to occur?
How would the world react?
What would the government say?
Where would public opinion turn?
What about the investigation team?
Just imagining it made me laugh.
It would be incredibly entertaining.
Even if I was going to get caught, I had to do at least this much first.
That was the only way the calculations would balance.
I slowly opened my eyes.
I had made my decision.
I crossed turning myself in off the list of options.
Getting caught could wait until the very end.
“I’m sorry, old man, but you’ll have to suffer in there for a while. I’ll take responsibility for your retirement.”
I picked up the phone.
“Dennis. We need to prepare some supplies.”
“We don’t need guns. Just explosives. Prepare a lot of explosives.”
“A huge amount. Enough to set Japan ablaze.”
A voice on the other end replied that he understood.
Thinking about the bastards who would panic at the explosions, I found myself grinning.
The thought of the game they had set up collapsing around them was insanely entertaining.
As expected, when it comes to a fight, nothing beats a dirty brawl.